


It's Not A Slowdance, This Modern Romance (Feels Like We've Already Waited Too Long)

by BadHidingSpot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Deaf Clint Barton, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Winter gift exchange, WinterGiftX, no powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadHidingSpot/pseuds/BadHidingSpot
Summary: For SpecialHell's Winter Gift Exchange 2019. NatalieRyan asked for: a Stucky modern AU and/or Friends to Lovers.Natasha and Steve make a bet that they can bring the perfect date for Bucky to a party at the end of finals.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 159
Collections: Winter Gift Exchange 2019





	It's Not A Slowdance, This Modern Romance (Feels Like We've Already Waited Too Long)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NatalieRyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatalieRyan/gifts).



> Happy Winter Time Natalie! I was so so happy to write this for you. I had an excuse to finally dip my toe into the fluffy Stucky waters (and an excuse to write my MCU trip). Thanks to my betas: @OrcBae and @tearexmama on twitter! You two are wonderful!

Natasha is a good friend. She knows she’s not Steve’s Best Friend--no one could compete with Bucky on that--but she’s pretty sure she comes closer than anyone else. She has her own circle of friends, there’s little overlap between her and Steve’s groups, but he’s ranked as highly on her list as she is on his. Natasha is a really good liar, she’s the kind that likes doing it too, but she very rarely lies to Steve.  
She hopes that Steve recognizes this and appreciates it about her, about their friendship, as she slams a twenty dollar bill on his table before occupying the seat next to him.  


Steve asks, “Which one is this for?” as he slides the money off of the table and into his front pocket.  


“Grease Two,” Nat says. She already has a bubble tea from the counter--the way Steve glances from it to the shop entrance behind him tells her that he must have missed her coming inside and passing him. She moves so quiet and quick sometimes, Steve told her once that he thinks she might be part ghost.  


Nat crosses her arms, takes a long drink of bubble tea, and stares Steve down because she can’t believe she’s lost another bet to him--that she’s ever lost any bet to him. Certainly with the Grease Two bet she could have lied and saved herself the twenty, but Steve respects her integrity.  


“No disrespect to Olivia Newton John,” Steve says, “But Grease Two is just a better movie over all.”  


“Removing Travolta and adding Michelle Pfeiffer did a lot, I’ll give you that,” Nat concedes, “But the songs are better. That was the nail in the coffin for me.”  


Steve takes a minute to suck up and chew a few tapioca pearls before replying. “For me it was Michael. Sweet, soft, nerdy boy with a mysterious leather fetish persona.”  


“You really do have a type,” Nat says. She watches Steve with interest to see if his mind makes the connection, but when he only shrugs she asks, “How’s Bucky?”  


“Exams grades are in. All A’s, of course. I told him he’d ace everything but you know how he is.”  


“A human pressure cooker. Is that what the party Friday is about?”  


“Yeah he wants to celebrate. I passed all my exams too--in case you were curious.”  


“I’m not sure I like your tone--considering you didn’t ask about my grades either.” Nat doesn’t chew her boba right away, she always rolls it around on her tongue for a while. She does that now, while she looks Steve over. “So the Post Rumlow Slum is over? The ‘Slumlow’ as I like to call it.”  


Steve grimaces just at the name--or maybe at the pun, he has a lack of appreciation for Nat’s brilliance with puns. “Thank god yes. He even told me this morning he’s ready to start dating again.” Nat can picture it perfectly: Bucky laying it on real thick in his yoga pants and no shirt, batting his big blue eyes at Steve and saying with little subtlety that he’s over his trash ex-boyfriend thanks to Steve. “That might also be a motive for the party. I think he wants me to set him up.” Subtle or not, Nat knows that however Bucky phrased it it went over Rogers’ head.  


Natasha accidentally chokes on her current boba, swallowing it whole and taking a long drink of her bubble tea to wash it down. When the coughing subsides she asks, “What did he say, exactly?”  


“Just that now that exams are over, and he’s comfortable in his body again, he’d really like to start dating now. Someone special, someone he can get serious about.”  


Natasha’s mouth turns up at the side of her lips, a knowing smile. “And from that you interpreted he wanted you to set him up?”  


“I know the perfect guy,” Steve says leaning on the table, eager to reveal his mystery date. “My friend Sam. He’s exactly Bucky’s type: strong, funny, loyal, compassionate, a little stubborn: but always for a good reason.”  


“Yep,” Nat sighs, “that’s Bucky’s type all right.” Her bubble tea is half gone now, even though Steve started before her. “It just so happens that I also know the perfect guy for Bucky.”  


Steve eyes her across the table--Steve is so easily made jealous even if he can’t see an offer when it’s doing yoga poses shirtless in front of him. Her suggestion raises Steve’s hackles. “I’ve got this,” He insists and if he wanted her to back down he should know by the twitch of her mouth she’s not going to now. Not with a challenge brewing between them.  


“I don’t think you do.”  


“Who did you have in mind?” Steve wants to size him up, Nat’s suggestion, compare him to Sam, see if Nat is really onto something. His face makes it clear that he doubts it though--Steve thinks he’s the only one who really knows what’s best for Bucky. He knows Bucky the best out of everyone.  


She pockets one of her boba in her cheek, her eyes looking Steve up and down, sizing something up in her mind. “Clint,” She says, finally, and Steve laughs.  


“You won’t even date Clint. You think he’s good enough for Bucky?”  


“Dating me is not the topic,” Nat says, “I think they’d get along great. Clint is fun, he’s interesting, he was in the circus you know?”  


“I don’t believe that,” Steve says.  


“I’ve seen pictures. Believe it.”  


“Sam is a better choice,” Steve says sucking the last two of his boba up from his tea--leaving nothing but lonely ice and the too sweet liquid in there now. He always eats the boba too quickly. “There’s no way Bucky will go for Clint if I introduce him to Sam.”  


Nat makes a noise that can only be described as a purr while she leans far over the table, propping her chin up on her hands. “That sounds like a bet, Rogers.”  


Steve smiles. “Fifty on Sam?”  


“This is our dear, darling Bucky we’re talking about here. Is that all you think his eternal happiness is worth? Fifty dollars?”  


“Two hundred?”  


Natasha slaps the table, surprising Steve a little with the sudden noise, and says, “That’s more like it. We’ll each bring our guy to the party, no introducing before then. Deal?”  


Steve nods, “Who ever Bucky makes a date with by the end of the night wins?”  


Natasha pushes her cup, still full of tapioca pearls to Steve and allows him to finish the beads off. “You’re going down, Rogers.” Steve passes his half full glass of bubble tea to her in trade. If Steve isn’t going to start dating Bucky himself, Nat might as well make a little money off of Rogers’ denseness.  


*  


Sam wouldn’t describe what he’s been in lately as a weird porn hub spiral, not out loud, but he would describe it as a thing he definitely needs to get out of. Steve must have sensed that--or worse maybe Steve has somehow seen Sam’s internet browser history--and that’s why he’s invited Sam to this party to set him up. Sam didn’t ask a lot of questions because whether Steve sensed it or not it’s true: he’s over Maria, he’s ready to start something new, he’s ready to stop looking up those very niche videos and meet an actual human person.  


Steve hasn’t told him anything about the friend he’s introducing Sam to other than that “they’re the best” and “totally your type”. Sam doesn’t even know the gender and Steve hasn’t given him a name. Steve gave him a ride here, helped him pick out a shirt, but the second they were in the door he showed Sam where to hang his coat and then disappeared to find this mystery date. So now Sam is here, in Steve’s apartment, drinking a Shock Top Belgian White and looking at every person in the room trying to decipher which one is most like Sam’s “type”.  


He’d given Steve some pretty vague parameters when he asked: snarky short guys who are flexible and women who like being called “Daddy” in bed. Steve had not even balked at any of that which was a relief to Sam, at least on the “is he freaked out by my internet history” front, and insisted that Sam come to this party.  


But Sam is alone and he doesn’t know anyone and in the faces in the room, of which there are way too many, he can’t even find Steve anymore. He’s not even sure if any of the people here go to school with them. He knows Steve has a roommate--maybe these are all his friends. Sam doesn’t know because the only person here he does know left him at the coat closet a good fifteen minutes ago.  


Sam feels like he’s maybe a little too dressed up, even with Steve’s help. He’s the only one in a blazer--hell he’s the only one in real pants as far as he can see. Everyone here seems to have rolled out of their finals nests and arrived in their study sweatpants and sandals with socks. Sam isn’t trying to be judgemental--exams are hard on people and certainly they should go to a party in whatever they feel most comfortable in. It’s just that if someone here is meant to be Sam’s date he’d hoped that they’d dressed up as much as he had.  


Sam thinks of himself as a pretty charismatic guy, he can make friends anywhere, but he doesn’t want to start chatting up someone if Steve is just going to interrupt with his set up. Sam is just wishing someone would come up and talk to him, even just a polite “how about this weather” thing just until Steve gets back, when a tiny red haired woman appears out of nowhere next to him. Sam jumps a little when he sees her staring up at him with big green eyes and a half smirk. Her dress is a deep hunter green, in a peplum cut. Sam can’t immediately place the brand, so it’s probably a vintage or thrift find. She’s wearing black orb earrings to match the long black pearl necklace, the one she’s twirling around her finger like a spider winding a web. She’s wearing high heels, the kind that should definitely make a sound on the hardwood when she walks so Sam can only assume that she levitated down next to him.  


“Hi,” She says voice full of amusement, possibly at her own jumpscare. “Are you Sam?”  


He smiles. Steve didn’t disappoint after all. Sam leans on the wall placing his forearm on the space just above the woman’s head and nods. “Yeah, that’s me,” He says, “you must be Steve’s friend?”  


She pauses, that half smirk dropping for a moment as she looks him up and down, sizes him up and suddenly Sam feels pinned under her gaze in a way he didn’t before. He falters, “The one he wanted me to meet? Or is that not you? Do you not know Steve?”  


“No, no,” She says urgently, that half smile returning with a little more brightness than before, “I’m Steve’s friend. And yes he did. Want us to meet. You and me. No one else. I’m the friend.”  


Sam laughs--she’s a little quirky but that’s really not a bad thing. Sam himself is pretty quirky by most metrics, he reminds himself while pointedly not looking at her shoes to see what they might feel like if she stepped on him.  


“So you have me at a disadvantage,” Sam says.  


“I’m Nat,” She answers before he needs to ask the question.  


“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam, unable to stop himself, does glance down at her shoes and then finds he can’t look up from them. They’re fine glistening black ones, with a mary jane strap and are, at least six inches. “Are those Louis Vuitton?” Sam asks, his mouth feels very dry suddenly and he takes a long sip from the bottle to calm himself.  


“I wish,” She says and leans in a little closer to whisper, “knock offs. But they do the job.” Her voice is warm, like a fine silk scarf wrapping around his neck and pulling just tight enough.  


“What job is that?” He asks, voice dropping to match hers.  


“We’ve only just met, Sam,” she reaches up and rubs some of the condensation off the neck of his beer bottle with her thumb--her fingernails are long, painted the same shade as her heels and Sam loves a woman who can coordinate. “Why don’t you tell me all about yourself. Spare no detail. I’m going to monopolize you.”  
Sam grins and nods. That works for him. Steve really does know him.  


*  


Clint started out ninety percent sure that Nat had asked him on a date but by the time they’re at the party and she introduces him to her friend Bucky and then bails he’s maybe at sixty percent. He’s been talking to Bucky for about thirty minutes and he’s a nice guy, very cool if not a little drunk for so early in the evening. It’s not a slight against this Bucky guy, but Clint had wanted to spend time with Nat, and had come here with the impression that she wanted to spend time with him. He hasn’t seen her since they arrived.  


He must have read her question wrong. She was somewhat vague with the asking. She came up to him after his aerials class, the one she never missed, and asked if he was single, what kind of people he liked, if he was open to guys, and if he was free Friday night to go to a party with her. Now that he thinks about it he’d definitely leapt to conclusions when she asked him. Really, the “open to guys” thing should have been his biggest clue.  


“Are you okay?” Bucky asks stopping mid story which Clint has not been paying attention to--he feels really bad about that, but the noise in here is too much and he forgot to read Bucky’s lips.  


“Sorry,” Clint apologizes, “I’m just now realizing that coming here might have been a mistake.”  


“Ouch,” Bucky says, putting his hand over his heart like Clint has stabbed him there.  


“It’s not you,” Clint insists and Bucky smiles, letting him know that he’s not really offended--he’s maybe too drunk to be. “I just don’t get to hang out with Nat much these days, and I’ve barely seen her tonight.”  


“Nat’s hard to pin down,” Bucky sets down his beer on the snack table next to them and then uses his now free hand to scoop up some pretzels from the bowl. Bucky starts to scan the room and in an instant points to a dark little corner in the back. “Got her,” Bucky says before shoving the entire handful of pretzels into his mouth and crunching them loudly. Clint follows where Bucky pointed and sees his not date in deep conversation with a beautiful man who is absolutely out of Clint’s league. Clint’s stomach sinks--he should leave, he’s only going to get in the way here.  


Bucky, apparently notices Clint’s distress--not hard to do Clint is very bad at hiding his emotions and he is two beers in already. Bucky gives Clint a soft nudge in the side with his elbow and says, “You like her, huh?” Clint nods and Bucky picks his beer back up and takes a long drink. “You know, Nat’s got a lot of love and attention to give. When she likes you she _really_ likes you.”  


Clint nods robotically, only taking in about half of what Bucky is saying while he concentrates on reading Nat and her new friend’s lips. He thinks they’re talking about Chanel bags or America’s Next Top Model--maybe both, maybe they go hand in hand.  


If Bucky is offended that Clint isn’t paying attention to him, he doesn’t show it and when a tall, beefy, blonde guy comes over Bucky has only one focus and it is not Clint’s eavesdropping. The guy is barely within a two foot radius of Bucky for longer than a second before Bucky drapes himself over him and says, with much less sobriety than he was using with Clint, “Steve, where have you been all night?”  


Steve blushes in the tips of his ears and wraps an arm around Bucky’s waist--probably to steady him but Clint suspects he’s just used to having it there. Like that spot on Bucky’s lower back is leased by Steve and trespassers will not be tolerated. “I’ve been looking for you. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Steve starts to tug Bucky away but Bucky stops him with a loud whine.  


“Wait,” Bucky says and Steve stops his pull, “you gotta meet my new friend here. Clint this is Steve.”  


Clint gives Steve a small wave, grateful to have someone to focus on that is not his crush or the hearthrob she’s engulfed in conversation with. Steve glares at him a little and Clint isn’t quite sure what to make of that. He just waved--is that offensive or something? “You’re Nat’s friend?” He asks.  


“Yeah, hi,” Clint remembers now: Nat has mentioned Steve more than a few times which means that literally all of Nat’s friends are Greek God like figures including this Adonis, Bucky the Ganymede, and whoever the Apollo in the corner of the room is. Clint risks another glance at the two of them and sees that Apollo is smiling and it’s like the sun rising. Clint looks back to Steve and Bucky and forces a smile. “I might not be staying much longer. I think Nat’s distracted and I don’t really know anyone else here.”  


Steve’s face softens and although Clint is glad to not be actively glared at he’s not sure he likes pity much better. “She didn’t tell you why she invited you?”  


Clint shrugs and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “I’m an idiot. I sort of assumed she’d asked me out on a date.”  


Bucky makes a sympathetic “aw” sound and pouts on Clint’s behalf. This pity party is really not sitting well with Clint and now Bucky is making himself the peanut gallery.  


“She did,” Steve says, quickly, like he’s trying to jump on Clint’s assumptions before they scurry away. “She told me that you’re her date. That she invited you on a date.”  


Clint looks from Steve, to Bucky, and back to Steve before he says, “Are you sure? Because she’s been flirting with that guy for a while.” Clint points across the room to where Nat is practically in the guy’s lap. Steve bristles and Clint is pretty sure he hears a snarl before Steve composes himself and turns back to Clint.  


“That’s my friend Sam,” Steve explains, “but she’s definitely here with you. She likes you a lot. You should go over there, interrupt them, talk with her.”  


Clint isn’t sure--feels his stomach squirm at the idea of stealing Nat away like they’re on ‘The Bachelorette’ or something.  


“Oh I see what’s going on,” Bucky giggles, but doesn’t share what’s going on, just leans further into Steve’s body and rests his head against Steve’s chest. “You should definitely go over there. The more the merrier and all that.”  


It occurs to Clint that these two might just be trying to get rid of him--Bucky seems sincere, but there’s something insidious that Clint can’t name in Steve’s tone. It’s clear, at the very least, that Steve and Bucky want to be alone together and Clint might as well make himself a third wheel across the room. There’s no rule that says he really _has_ to interrupt them or take Nat away, he could at least try to have a conversation with both of them. Clint downs the rest of his beer, picks up three cans from the cooler beside him and holds them in triangle formation before slipping away from Steve and Bucky.  


*  


Bucky slides himself around Steve’s embrace until he’s standing in front of him, pressed together chest to chest and grinning ear to ear. And no, Bucky is not this drunk but Steve always lets him touch and do more when he thinks Bucky is so he’ll play the part. Bucky would play any role Steve asked him to. “Can I ask you a question?” Bucky says and Steve takes the beer out of Bucky’s hand, checks to make sure it’s empty, and then tosses it in the recycling next to them.  


“Sure thing, just so long as it’s not to dance,” Steve says and Bucky huffs like he’s been greatly disappointed.  


“Fine then, I’ll ask a different question,” Bucky ponders for less than thirty seconds what it should be while he picks at a loose thread on Steve’s cable knit cardigan. “Do you think I’m too subtle?”  


Steve looks properly confused by this before he shakes his head. “When it comes to what?”  


Bucky smiles, makes his voice into a gravely low whisper and says, “To sex. To what I want, specifically, for sex.”  


Steve blushes from his face down into his chest, or what Bucky can see of it in his deep V neck. Bucky rests his chin there in the exposed skin of Steve’s torso. “You know Sam is really good at reading people?” If Bucky were as drunk as he’s acting he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Steve’s annoying change of topic. “You should talk to him.”  


Without changing position Bucky leans back, far back to look at the other end of the room upside but also to show off how flexible yoga has made him--and maybe a little bit to press his hips into Steve’s. “He’s busy,” Bucky says watching Sam laugh at one of Clint’s jokes and slap his hand on Clint’s knee and leave it there. If Nat is trying to organize a threesome more luck to her, but she better not do it in Bucky’s apartment. He’s not sure any of the furniture can hold up to that kind of activity. Bucky pulls himself up and rests his chin on Steve’s chest again. “So finals are over. We’ve got nothing but free time now.”  


Steve smiles and readjusts Bucky’s flat cap that’s gotten a little crooked from his back bending. “What do you want to do for break?”  


“Curl up, Netflix and chill. The usual.” Bucky feels like his hand is burning a hole through Steve’s shirt where it’s pressed into his lower back. Bucky pulls it up high enough to slip his hand underneath and press it to the warm flesh of Steve’s back. Steve squirms a little at the touch but doesn’t take any action to remove Bucky.  


“Your hand is cold,” Steve says.  


“Yeah, that’s why it’s there. You’re always so hot, Rogers.” Bucky plays his fingers along the knots of Steve’s spine, up and down again chasing the shudder it creates in Steve.  


Bucky isn’t sure what he can do to make his intentions more obvious. They’ve kissed before--when Bucky was still with Brock and he and Steve were both that pleasant level of drunk where you just want to kiss someone for hours. The next morning hadn’t been as awkward as Bucky was expecting and he realized that was because kissing Steve was natural, something he should do more often. After he ended things with Brock, Bucky set his sights on recreating the situation: drinking and flirting until Steve kissed him again. He had to put his advances on hold until after finals; when Steve had been in relationships before it became the soul focus of his attention. If Bucky had made a move then Steve wouldn’t have studied at all. Bucky had tried to be considerate but now he’s worried that he’s scared Steve off for good.  


“We’re out of ice,” Steve says and Bucky doesn’t need to look at the bucket to know he’s right. All the bodies and movement in their tiny apartment has created an environment of heat. Bucky pulls away from Steve and starts scanning the room for wherever his shoes have ended up. They’re by the door--Steve always puts them by the door for him.  


“I’ll run up to the corner store and grab a bag.”  


“Don’t,” Steve says, intercepting Bucky near the door and pulling his own coat off the rack. “It’s your party. You should stay.”  


“It’s our party,” Bucky says, “it’s in our apartment.” Steve is already shrugging into his coat while he steps into his boots.  


“I’ll be ten minutes,” Steve promises, “talk to Sam.” Steve’s out the door before he’s finished talking and Bucky wants to roll his eyes with his entire being. Steve doesn’t make things easy--he’s not stupid; he just doesn’t recognize flirting. Steve has this complex where he doesn’t think anyone would be attracted to a six-foot, ripped, blond bombshell because shitheads in highschool wouldn’t give him the time of day.  


Bucky considers Steve’s suggestion: talking to Sam but he’s not where Bucky saw him last--Clint and Nat are vanished too. Bucky puts his shoes and coat on and grabs the scarf he knitted for Steve off the rack and heads outside.  


He has to run to catch up to Steve but once he looks back and sees Bucky following him, he stops and waits. Bucky is panting a little, his air taking form in the cold around them with each breath. He holds the scarf up. “You forgot this,” He says, “you’re going to get pneumonia again.”  


“That’s only happened twice,” Steve says, big smile on his face while Bucky wraps the scarf lovingly around his neck and tucks it into his coat. “Thanks, Buck,” Steve says it softly watching Bucky’s hand button up his coat a little higher.  


“Let’s get that ice,” Bucky says sliding his hand into Steve’s and pulling him along through the street. Steve laces their fingers together and when he feels that Bucky hasn’t put on gloves he shoves their clasped hands into his coat pocket but doesn’t let go. Bucky feels warm all over, the heat from Steve spreading out into his whole body just from where their fingers intertwine.  


*  


Steve has accepted that it’s a zero win bet with Nat. Bucky didn’t particularly take to either of their dates and instead seems too focused on the ice and party to even think about dating. Maybe he’s not as ready as Steve thought. That’s okay, Steve decides, Bucky can take all the time he wants. Steve has to admit that he’s happy Bucky didn’t respond to Clint or Sam--maybe Steve is the one who isn’t ready to see Bucky in another relationship.  


“Just so you know,” Bucky says, “twice is way too many times for one person to get pneumonia.” Bucky is so good--everything about him is soft and perfect, he needs someone who can appreciate him properly. Someone who knows to move his shoes next to the door or will read to him out loud while he knits. Someone who will wear those knitted creations with as much pride as Steve does. Someone who knows what brand of laundry detergent to buy so Bucky’s clothes don’t make him itchy.  


“That’s nothing. I’ve had every illness in the book,” Steve replies. He wonders if Sam (or Clint even) would have been able to do all of those things. Possibly Sam, after a while, would have come around. Steve feels his heart ache a little imagining Sam doing those things for Bucky instead of Steve--of having to stop all of that once the relationship took off. Steve didn't have to worry about that with Brock. He was inconsiderate by nature--probably never thought about Bucky unless he was in the room and even then not in the way Bucky deserves to be thought about.  


“We should try to bottle your immune system. I bet you’re like some kind of superhuman. Just to survive all of that.” They’ve known each other so long, surely if Bucky wanted something to happen between them it would have by now. It’s okay, really, that Bucky is interested in Steve like that. Steve’s happy just to be around him, to make Bucky happy.  


They’re at the store sooner than Steve anticipated--time spent with Bucky always moves at a strange pace for Steve somehow too fast and never long enough. Steve gets the door for him and despite that it means Bucky has no free hand, he still keeps his clasped with Steve in the pocket of Steve’s coat as he pulls them in and towards the back for ice.  


“We should grab more beer while we’re here,” Bucky says as he passes the display of IPAs that are on sale. “And we’re out of milk.”  


“We can’t turn this into a shopping trip,” Steve says, “we won’t be able to carry everything back.” Especially if Bucky intends to hold hands the entire time. Steve opens the freezer in the back and pulls out a bag of ice. He holds it for a moment, measuring the weight in his hands and wondering if one bag is enough. The party could go on for a couple more hours and making two trips to the store in the cold isn’t ideal.  


Then again, Steve thinks as he strokes his thumb over Bucky’s hand in his pocket, if Bucky comes with him the second time it might not be such a chore. Bucky makes the choice for him shutting the door with his shoulder. Steve tosses the ice up onto his shoulder but realizes quickly that that is going to be too cold so he slides it off and holds it by the top of the bag. When they pass the IPAs Bucky stops in front of them, looking at Steve expectantly but not taking his hand out to grab the beer. It’s awkward, but Steve manages to grab the box in the same hand as the ice and hold them together. Bucky is pleased with this and leads Steve to the counter. Steve sets their purchases on the counter and now there’s no avoiding it--he dislodges his hand from Bucky’s and reaches for his wallet.  


Bucky takes the time to pull out his phone and check his messages. Just as Steve gets his change from the cashier, Bucky is nudging him with earnest and presenting his phone to Steve.  


“Nat sent me a snapchat from the party,” He says. Steve takes both of the items off the counter and steps back in case another customer walks in so they aren’t monopolizing the counter. Bucky follows keeping his phone out in front of him and waits until Steve is settled next to the door but not in front of it to press play.  


Nat calls them “SnapNats” because she’s not funny but thinks she is. Nothing is a better example of this than her SnapNats which are usually weird puns and dad jokes about what she’s doing at that moment. This one, however, seems to be urgent and apologetic starting with a snap of her face, hair mussed, her bra straps visible but not the top of her dress. The caption says, “It was an accident and I am so so so so sorry”.  


Bucky clicks to the next snap which is a picture of Bucky’s bed--Steve doesn’t notice anything strange at first but Bucky certainly does since his face in contorted in shock and outrage. “What the fuck?” He says.  


Steve looks again and then it pops out to him--Bucky’s bed frame is broken in half in the middle the mattress dipping to create a slight V. Steve finds it really funny, especially at the next snap: Nat’s face again and the caption “I’ll buy you a new one I swear”. Bucky doesn’t seem to find it funny at all so Steve grits his teeth not to laugh. There are few things Nat could have done on it to make it break like that.  


Bucky puts his phone back into his pocket still sneering. “I’m going to have to go to IKEA now.”  


Steve can’t hold it in: he lets out a short laugh, tries to keep it soft but Bucky notices and turns his glare onto Steve. “It’s not funny,” Bucky says, “where am I supposed to sleep?”  


“Come on,” Steve says, leaning onto the door to push it open and stepping out, “it was an accident. She didn’t do it on purpose.”  


“I know,” Bucky grumbles following Steve out, “but it’s still annoying.” Bucky shoves his hand into his own coat pocket and walks with tense shoulders. They walk a few steps, Bucky’s annoyance keeping his steps quick.  


“You can sleep in my bed,” Steve says and Bucky stops walking entirely. Steve goes forward a couple of steps before he notices, stops, and turns around. Bucky is staring up at him with this incredulous look at his face, his eyes shining at Steve soft and warm. “What?”  


“Where will you sleep?” Bucky asks, his voice is soft, like the question is so precious it might break from being asked too loudly.  


Steve feels himself blush all the way to his ears and he is now a little too warm under Bucky’s scarf. He shrugs, “We have a couch.” Bucky shakes his head, rejecting the idea without even entertaining it for a second. “Or,” Steve continues, “it’s big enough. We could share.”  


Bucky breaks eye contact, finally, and looks down at Steve’s full hands then back at his face. “Your hands are full,” He says, dream-like, his mind turning something Steve can’t guess at over.  


“They’re not heavy,” Steve assures him, lifting them up high above his head and back down again, “did you want to carry one?”  


Bucky shakes his head. “It’s not that. I was just thinking that you can’t use your hands right now.”  


“If you tickle me I’m going to drop everything.”  


Bucky smiles but doesn’t laugh and shakes his head again. “I’m not gonna do that,” he says. Steve almost doesn’t believe him--Bucky has this hungry mischievous look in his eye like he’s about to do something that he can’t wait to get away with. Steve sways where he stands, thinking he should keep them moving, get back to the party before they’re missed, but Bucky’s gaze holds him there and the items in his hands do feel a little like anchors keeping him where Bucky wants him.  


“What are you gonna do then?” Steve asks with the same soft curiosity that Bucky had moments ago.  


Bucky wraps his hand around Steve’s scarf, sliding under Steve’s coat to get a firm grip on it, and pulls Steve forward. It’s slow, Steve could resist the pull if he wanted but there’s less than zero desire to do that after his lips meet Bucky’s.  


Bucky’s mouth is warm--different from the rest of him which is always a little too cold like the circulation in his body doesn’t function like it should. Bucky’s skin is always cold but inside he’s warm and inviting and Steve can’t help but push into that heat.  


Bucky pulls off but not away, keeping their lips just centimeters apart in case he wants to start the kiss up again. He asks, “Do you like me?”  


For such a smart guy this is a radically dumb question. Steve nods and concentrates on not leaning back down to kiss Bucky again.  


The nod is not good enough, Bucky persists, “How much?” What an impossible question to answer. They’ve known each other for years, there isn’t a memory Steve has that doesn’t in way or another have Bucky in it. How can one quantify that?  


Steve leans forward, not to kiss Bucky although the desire is still strong, but to press his nose to Bucky’s to warm it. “I like you more than anyone else in the world.”  


This is a good answer, Steve can tell by the way Bucky’s face breaks into a full smile, like Steve’s answer has made him so happy he can’t contain it. Even when Bucky presses their mouths together again he’s still smiling  


While they kiss in the snow, Steve’s tongue chasing the warmth of Bucky’s mouth, he realizes that he could have been doing this all along--he could have kissed Bucky anytime he wanted. He’s wasted so much time not kissing or touching Bucky that when they stop (because they do have to get back to their party) Steve shifts both purchases to one hand so he can hold Bucky’s again in the other.  


“Me too,” Bucky says after a few steps, face red, lips kiss swollen, and bashful in a way Steve’s never seen him. Steve gives Bucky’s hand a good squeeze and thinks: it’s about damn time.


End file.
